


Sacrifices

by thoughts_run_rampant



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, I have no idea where this is going to go.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughts_run_rampant/pseuds/thoughts_run_rampant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a dream. Some dreams are attainable while others are not. Sometimes dreams change to make way for new ones, but it's a known fact that no dream comes without sacrifice. What will happen when Cadet Woods is spending the summer between her sophomore and junior year at Fort Bragg with the 82nd Airborne. Will Cadet Woods be able to balance it all in order to make her dreams come true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Humidity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So this is my first fic in the Clexa fandom and second that I've ever shared. This is me just really toying with some of the themes and ideas I've been having after reading some fics lately and my own life. I started another W.P. based fic with a friend in another fandom so you may see a similar theme or two (linked above). So please go easy on me! I'm relatively new to the fandom and would love some feed back. :)

Your alarm goes off at four o’clock and oddly enough you welcome it. You may be at summer training, but the last two years have taught you that your mind will quit before your body will. It’s why you continue to rise before the sun and before your peers on the weekend to ensure you remain in peak physical condition. Not to mention you dream of making co-captain of the women’s hockey team this year, and it won’t happen if your fitness isn’t ahead of the other Cows. You stick to your Monday routine; three mile run, six 60/120 sprints with a pyramid of push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, lunges and v-ups. By the time you finish you have thirty minutes to shower, dress and in formation. You send a quick text to your uncle telling him you’d email him soon before telling Anya to meet you in lobby to walk to the parade field in fifteen minutes.

It’s only five-thirty in the morning and you can already feel the sweat dripping down your back, catching on your shirt where it is tucked snuggly into your pants. You’ve considered yourself a southerner, since you grew up in the foothills of Virginia- but this. This is a completely different kind of south then what you grew up with. Especially when you think of how you’ve spent the past two years enjoying summer in the warm and not humid hills and valley of the Hudson River in New York.  You stand in formation subtlety trying to take in your peers while drenching your crisply starched uniform in the costal North Carolina humidity.  By your calculations you count about forty cadets from your spot in the formation, recognizing only seven though.

Your eyes continue to scan and calculate until they land on a girl with blond hair two squads in front of you. She looks like she has been kissed by the sun and made by the Gods. In that very moment you know that you’ve never been happier that you’ve been assigned to Fort Bragg for your summer training. You take in her appearance observing how her bun rests without a single hair out of place, despite the humidity you can literally see when you glance up at the parade field lights. You notice the freckles on her neckline that play out like a small constellation. Your attention is snapped to the front of the formation when you see a cadre member step up and relieve the cadet who was acting as platoon leader for this half assed formation.

            “Good Morning Cadets and welcome to Cadet Troop Leader Training otherwise known as CTLT! My name is Major Hawk and I will be in-charge of you for the next three weeks while you are here. Behind you, you will find the check in tables where you will give a copy of your orders to one of my NCOs and receive your information packet. If you plan to eat, DO NOT loose your meal card...”

It’s the last thing you really hear before your thoughts wander back towards the blond and how insufferably hot it is for being so early. You know you should pay attention; your two years at the Academy have instilled better attributes than this. But you just cannot force yourself to listen to a brief that you heard just three days ago before you left the cool walls of West Point. Right as you’ve decided that you need to know the mysterious girl’s name, not her last name but her first name, you hear the command.

“FALL OUT”

Since you spent the last ten minutes not paying attention it is quite apparent that you missed the instructions on how the check-in process was being conducted. 

“Hey Woods.”

You silently praise the fact that somehow Anya, your best friend since BEAST at The Point, was sent to the same summer training. “What’s up McCarthy?”

“You look lost Commander.” She says with a smirk, knowing you well enough to know that you have no idea what you should be doing.

“Cut the shit Anya and just tell me what I need to do.”

“Fine. But after dinner you’re coming over so I can hear what made the Commander lose her mind.” You hope that she doesn’t notice the faint blush you can feel spreading up your neck in the approaching dawn. If she does she doesn’t say anything. “After you check in with the Aviation NCO you need to grab you OPORD. Find the schedule for the week and then have your shit packed according to the packing list. I don’t remember what time we have to roll by.”

“Thanks Anya. Regretting choosing Blackhawks over the Apache yet?”

“Pshh you wish. You just wish I was gunna be there to make you look better.”

“Did you bump your head McCarthy? I got this.” Lexa replied laughing.

***

You’ve checked in and returned to your room, all thoughts of the blond cadet forgotten as you focus on the task at hand. The OPORD given to you states that you are in the 1-82 “Wolfpack” Battalion assigned to 2nd Platoon, 1st Lieutenant Cross.  You spend much of the morning writing your schedule in your green book and your phone along with packing list so you’re prepared. Before you know it, it’s time to report downstairs to be taken to the airfield where you’ll meet Lieutenant Cross and the other Platoon Leaders.

While you wait for Anya to make an appearance knowing she probably got lost in some leadership development book, you take in the other cadets gathered.  You’ve never been ashamed of the Academy or the sacrifices you’ve made to attend, wearing your sacrifices and accomplishments with pride. At times you wondered what it would have been like to go to a normal school and do ROTC. But as you watch the ROTC cadets from across the country in the lobby you can’t help being thankful for the path you choose. 

“Damn. We stick out don’t we?”

You turn and look at Anya noticing the aviation uniform with the West Point insignia that you signed for prior to leaving, compared to the other cadets who wear the regular ACUs. “I guess that’s what a million dollar education can buy you,” you joke. Both of you chuckle knowing that the money spent on a West Point cadet buys much more than fancy uniforms.

As you exit the lobby with the other six cadets plus Anya to head towards the Airfield you glance back to make sure you didn’t leave anything. That’s when you see Her. Cadet Griffin. She’s reading something, you’re not sure what. However you do know that you are one step closer to knowing CDT Griffin’s first name. 


	2. With an "E"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still on day 1 but I swear it picks up after this chapter. I'm just trying to set the foundation up and give some background on basic Army stuff for the moment to start moving the plot forward.

The ride to the airfield was fairly short all things considered, though you couldn’t be bothered with the conversation around you as your thoughts continuously traveled back to Cadet (CDT) Griffin. Once the group arrived they went through the airfield gate and made their way past numerous hangers, some open showing the rotary wing aircraft inside while others held parachutes gathered from a recent jump. You sit enraptured; as you take in everything you see around you that you almost don’t notice that you’ve come to a stop about half way down the airstrip.  Anya is appointed to march your small gaggle into the hanger for briefs, which you are silently thankful for. The sounds of blades starting to churn reach your ears and the smell of hot asphalt mixed with flight fuel fills your senses, you know this is where you are meant to be.

           

The hanger has a small room off to the right of the far back wall that has a dry erase board and packets sitting on the eight chairs for the group and pizza. The time line listed on the blackboard varies slightly from the one given in your OPORD. _Typical Army_ , you think. The first two hours you spend in the small exceedingly warm room is filled with the down and dirty on the types of aircrafts that belong to the 82nd Airborne that you’ll encounter during your three weeks. You try to take notes but it’s frivolous, between eating lunch and the context of the information, there is just too much for you to grasp firmly at the moment. Following the brief on the individual aircrafts there is safety brief. They tell you the typical stuff, like don’t walk towards the aircraft while the blades are rotating unless given the command to do and only walk towards the aircraft open side door from a straight line.

           

“Excuse me sir,” Cadet Simpson interjects. “Why must we approach the aircraft from the side?”

           

“As the blades spin and gather momentum they angle at which they turn decreases, traveling in a downward arc around the aircraft as it tries to push air down.” Replied Lieutenant (LT) Morris from 1st Platoon before continuing with the safety brief.

           

 You’re given a fifteen minute break as LT Morris waits for the other platoon leaders to arrive for the final part of their day, their meet and greet. The introductions include the three platoon leaders from Wolfpack Battalion, two platoon leaders from the Corsair Battalion, and three from the Air Cavalry Saber Battalion. You waste no time in seeking out LT Cross, who is not what you expected at all. You find yourself standing in front of a blond hair, blue eyed, strong facial features giant, _he has to be over six and a half feet_. He shakes your hand, and your hand is engulfed by his that you wonder how he could even manipulate flight controls in the cockpit with gloves on.

 

“So you’re CDT Woods.”

 

“I am. And you are 1st Lieutenant Cross.” You state holding his eye contact as he tries to assess you. He breaks eye contact first and you count it as a victory. You’ve spent your fair share of Walking hours at West Point honing in your ability to remain stoic when met with a challenge.

 

“We’ve got forty minutes before you all leave, why don’t we get to know each other and if we have time I can show you the hanger and birds.”

 

“Well Sir, the sort version is I am a twenty-four year old West Point Cadet with prior service as a MP (military police). I enlisted in the Army while I was in high school 2008, was active duty and deployed to Iraq in 2010 with the 759th MP Battalion out of Fort Carson. Came home went to Fort Campbell and while I was there I thought out about the future and how I wanted to be the best leader I could be and it lead me to West Point. Luckily I was accepted and started the summer of 2013.”

 

“Impressive CDT Woods. What rank were you prior to starting at the academy?”

 

“Sargent, Sir”

 

“I’m glad you found your path, cadet. I actually was prior service before I became a pilot. I was a 68 Whisky.”

 

“That’s a combat Medic correct?”

 

“Yup. After I deployed three times, I knew I needed something different. I always appreciated the covering fire my unit received from air support whenever we were pinned down so I thought I would try to become a pilot through ROTC. It’s by the Grace of God that I was able to get my degree and become a pilot. I’ve been here at Wolfpack for two years flying the Apache and enjoying every minute of it.”

 

The time somehow gets away from you and before you know it, it’s time to leave. You wish you had gotten to see the hanger and aircraft before you come tomorrow, but at least you have something to look forward to tomorrow. The ride back to the hotel is filled with a lot of discussion as everyone tries to share the knowledge they’ve learned about their instructors.

 

“Woods.”

 

“McCarthy” You state as you meet Anya’s stare.

 

She simply smirks at you. “Want to run to the dining facility (DFAC) for dinner and after we can hang out in my room?”

 

“Sure. 1645 in the lobby a good time for you?”

 

“Mhmmm”

**

 

You get tired of being cooped up in your room before dinner and decide to go spend the last fifteen minutes trying to find the laundry services. It turns out the laundry services are right next to the lobby so you end up having time to kill waiting for Anya.

           

“Excuse me.”

 

You turn around to face none other than CDT Griffin. “Yes?” You don’t have time to scold yourself for sounding harsh or for being caught off guard.

 

If CDT Griffin is affected by your response she doesn’t show it. She smiles, “Are you here for CTLT? My friends and I are looking for the dinning facility, and the map in my packet seems to be outdated.”

 

Before you can answer, Anya calls out. “Lexa you ready to die?”

 

Rolling your eyes, “Who has the better PT score, Anya.” You hope the retort is enough to silence your friend with impeccable timing.

 

It’s not.

 

Anya arrives at your side. “I’m CDT McCarthy. Who are you?”

 

You might as well have dug yourself a grave with the mortification you were feeling at your friend’s abrasiveness. You can’t really fault her, it’s just how Anya is, but it doesn’t stop you from caring about the reaction the blond in front of you will have.

 

“It’s Cadet Griffin.” She states with a slight touch of sass.

 

You glance between the two and know you need to gain the upper hand of this conversation and do some damage control if you want any chance of getting to know Griffin any better. “Sorry she get’s hangry. This is Anya McCarthy and I’m Lexa Woods. We’re on our way to the DFAC now actually. You’re more than welcome to join us-“

 

“Or follow us if you can’t keep up” Anya quips.

 

It’s quick but you see a spark of something, you’re not sure what, flash in the blonde’s eyes and a smirk.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

You can see Anya ready to make another crass comment and silent her with a look that you reserve more for striking fear in Plebes than your best friend, but it does the job. Without looking back you lead the group out front.

 

“I’ll set the pace you say looking between the pair.” You try to throw a supportive glance towards Griffin while zeroing on Anya as if to dare her to instigate the situation further.

 

The DFAC is only a mile a way; you passed it on the run from this morning.  You try to set a pace that is challenging so you still get something out of it but also not kill the comrades on your flanks. You try to steel glances to your left where Griffin is and it seems like she’s keeping up with the seven and a half minute mile. You catch her roll her eyes and nod her head. You aren’t sure if it’s a sign to pick up the pace, but you subtle start pushing ahead. On your right you see Anya keeping pace though just a tad bit off your shoulder.

 

You see the DFAC about a tenth of a mile ahead on the left and continue to push ahead of the steady pace you set following the nod from the blond. You know you’re faster than Anya on sprint so it’s no surprise when she falls a couple strides behind you. However you’re surprised when you see Clark keeping pace, and finishing with you at the walkway into the chow hall. Anya finishes several strides behind you with a scowl on her face and doesn’t stop, continuing into the building leaving you both out front.

 

For some reason you feel compelled to apologize even though you normally wouldn’t give a shit how Anya is perceived. But there is something about the girl across from you that has you seeking her approval. “Sorry about her-“  


“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault… My name is Clarke by the way.”

 

“Clarke” you state, letting the name roll off your tongue with a smile.

 

“With an E on the end.” She says.

 

You gesture to the doors of the chow hall asking if she wants to go in.

 

“I’m gunna wait out here, when we left I didn’t text my friend so I’m gunna wait for her. But rain check?”

 

“Yeah that works. Same time tomorrow evening?”

 

“Sounds good to me. Are we gunna run?”

 

“If you can handle the pace, Clarke with an E on the end.” You smile and hope she doesn’t misinterpret your poor attempt at a joke.

 

You see the flare from before in her eyes. “I’ll pace tomorrow Lexa. You might want to stretch before we meet, just sayin'.” She jests.

 

“Hmm. I’ll be ready Griffin.” You throw over your shoulder as you make your way inside the building to deal with Anya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried to put the abbreviations for certain words in parentheses because it's natural for me to use short hand when I talk about some of these things. If I missed one and used the abbreviation without previously mentioning the entire word please let me know and I'll correct it.   
> Also, if you have questions about what anything is or want more detail let me know and I'll add it to the note or try to do a better job of describing it in the future. Thanks! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo how bad was it? I am military, tho I did not graduate from West Point nor am I in a line unit. So if anyone has some ideas or information they wanted to share or talk about, please let me know!


End file.
